


Awry

by Oparu



Series: Mistletoe Madness [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Love Potion/Spell, Magic Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Femslash_kink on Dreamwidth. "A spell goes wrong and makes Emma fall in love with Regina."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awry

On Monday, Emma brought her coffee. "Good Morning Mayor," she said, setting the coffee on her desk and disappearing from her office. Regina almost gave in the suspicious part of her that wanted to test it for toxins before she drank it, but eventually decided to drink it because 'good' wouldn't use poison. 

On Tuesday, the same, an overly cheerful good morning from her sheriff and a fresh cup of coffee. Emma remains a moment this time, smiling as if she'd found something particularly amusing (with her infantile sense of humour) and leaves. 

On Wednesday, Emma brings her lunch and turns in all her paperwork three days early with a smile instead of a groan. Impressed and confused, Regina just stares at her while Emma smiles and returns to the station. 

On Thursday, Regina waits all day for some bizarre bit of behaviour from her sheriff and is about to write the past three days off as a fluke or a strange phase of the moon, but Emma meets her at her car, brushing the snow off the rear window and the hood, so Regina wouldn't have to. 

"Goodnight, Mayor," Emma said, grinning. 

"Goodnight," Regina said. "Thank you."

"No problem."

On Friday, Snow corners her in an aisle of the supermarket, between the cereal and the crackers. 

"What have you done?"

Regina sighs, knowing she'll never be able to convince the hard-headed princess that she hasn't used magic/killed puppies/tortured kittens/whatever she's being accused of this week. "You'll need to be more specific. I have done many things today that might not meet with your approval."

"Emma."

Regina blinks. She doesn't have an answer. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Emma invited you over for dinner."

“We’re attempting to be cordial to each other, for Henry’s sake.”

“She spent all day cooking.”

“I doubt even you are angry that I’ve inspired some culinary attempt by your daughter. Unless she’s burned down the kitchen, if that’s the case, I suggest you talk to Rumpelstiltskin. He still holds the lease on that property--“ 

“You don’t understand.”

“No, Snow, I don’t. I thought I made that clear.” Folding her arms over her chest, Regina hopes this conversation will be ending shortly. She wants to have time to bring her groceries home before going to Emma and Snow’s tiny apartment for whatever Emma will serve her for dinner. 

“She sang in the kitchen while she cooked for you. She went to Granny for help. She had Henry tell her all the things you liked so she could make them.”

“She’s being a polite hostess.” Infuriating Snow is too much fun to agree that Emma’s behaviour is strange. Henry’s sleeping over at his grandparents and Regina has work to do after dinner, so the sooner she gets there, the sooner this increasingly frustrating day will end. 

“You’ve done something to her. Bewitched her.”

Regina wrinkles her nose. “Please. I know her courtesies are rough, but even you must be capable of believe that your daughter can be polite without magical intervention.” 

“There are candles all over the apartment.”

“We’ve had three power outages because of the snow.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Regina puts on her best smile. “I’ll consider myself warned. I bet your dear daughter will be thrilled you consider her cooking and being prepared for snow storms such a threat.”

Snow leaves more infuriated than she arrived and though Regina has promised to be an upstanding member of the community, annoying Snow White is hardly an act of public menace. 

After brushing more snow off the windscreen and the rest of her windows, Regina loads her groceries into her car and drives home. Even more snow collects on her car while she puts the groceries away and changes clothes. She would arrive at Emma’s in what she wore to the office but the temperature is still dropping and she doesn’t want to risk having to walk home in tights. Her black wool trousers are too dressy for what Emma certainly has planned, but everything Regina owns is a bit too much for the sheriff. She allows herself a warm cashmere sweater because the apartment is undoubtedly drafty.

The cold bites at her on the way back to her car. There’s even more snow on it and the streetlights illuminate the fat flakes as they fall. It’s quiet enough that they hiss as they settle into the snow around her. Regina pulls her scarf tighter around her neck and gets in. The remote starter has the Mercedes already warm and cozy but the plow hasn’t been through Mifflin Street yet and the brief drive to Emma’s takes twice what it should. She has excellent snow tires, of course, but it’s still more effort than it’s likely to be worth for some half-assed attempt at spaghetti or macaroni that Emma’s whipped up. 

Emma’s outside in her coat and that ridiculous white hat of hers, waving from the snow covered sidewalk. The yellow deathtrap of hers is far down the street because Emma must have moved it to let Regina use the nearest parking spot. It’s an act of kindness that Regina doesn’t understand, but parks next to Emma anyway.

“Hi. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“I will admit I was tempted to use magic.”

“You might want to magic yourself home,” Emma says, leading her in to the apartment. “I can always bring your car back Saturday morning.”

“I’d leave you the keys?” Regina asks, trying not to sound too indignant. 

“Or you could pick it up.” Emma shrugs, her smile apparently unassailable. “Wine?”

“Please.” 

Emma pours her a glass of red. Regina catches a glimpse of the bottle and realises with pleasant surprise that it’s one she’s purchased for herself and quite enjoys for the peppery undertones. 

“Lou down at the liquor store said you liked this one.”

“You asked?” 

“I didn’t want to pick something you wouldn’t like or that wouldn’t go with dinner, hence the professional help.” Emma waves at the table, which has been set with cutlery all from the same set and bright red cloth napkins. The napkins match the poinsettia in the middle of the table and the red and gold candles around the room. It’s beautiful and Emma certainly put the time into it that Snow insinuated. 

Emma’s even dressed for the occasion in a well-fitted pair of grey trousers and an-almost-elegant sweater. Her hair’s down in loose curls that frame her face, and she’s beautiful, especially the way she keeps catching Regina’s eyes and smiling, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I ran into your mother in the supermarket.”

“I hope she didn’t give it all away.” Emma leads her to a chair and pulls it out. “I wanted dinner to be a surprise.” She seats Regina with grace and fetches the salad from the kitchen. Regina can smell the tang of citrus and a hint of vinaigrette and to her delight Emma does understand vegetables and how to plate a salad. It’s even garnished, again, half-elegantly, as if she was copying a photograph of a fine salad. Somehow that’s more charming than it being perfect and Regina enjoys eating it all the more because Emma’s in such a good mood.

Emma keeps the conversation on Henry, how well he’s been doing since they all returned and how happy he is that his mothers are making the attempt to get along. They’re well into the main course, a scallop dish that Regina never would have guessed Emma could even make when her cell rings in her purse.

“Do you need to get it?” Emma sets down her fork, wipes her mouth with her napkin and fills Regina’s glass again with excellent wine. 

“Your parents would call you if something had happened to Henry.”

Emma tilts her head towards her own phone, resting on a table by the door. “They would.”

“Then it’s not important.”

Complimenting Emma on the food feels entirely bizarre, but it’s all delicious. 

Emma grins at her again and leans close while she collects the plates before serving dessert. “It turns out it’s amazing what you can do with a good teacher and a recipe book. This was my fifth try on the scallops, and I think they turned out okay.”

“Better than okay.”

Emma touches her shoulder, as if that kind of domestic intimacy is normal between them, and sets down the custard in front of her. “I’m glad. I wasn’t going to tell you how much time I spent on it, but I figured it would be kind of obvious because we both know I can’t cook.”

“Apparently you can.”

“When properly motivated.”

Again there’s that smile and it lingers on Emma’s face, as if it’s entirely comfortable there. 

Regina’s phone rings again while Emma serves the coffee, and again while they share mulled apple cider. There’s hardly any alcohol left in the cider, but Emma spices it with rum after looking out at the continuing snow outside the window.

“You’re not driving, are you?”

Regina expects a stern look about using magic on something so frivolous as a brief trip home, but Emma’s still relaxed, even calm, as if they’ve had dinner a thousand times together. Regina’s phone rings once more and she shuts it off with a flick of her hand. It can wait. 

Emma’s rings a moment after that and she apologises and answers it. It might be work. It’s obviously not by Emma’s puzzled look. She shrugs and hands the cell to Regina. 

“It’s my dad, but he wants to talk to you.” 

“Hello?”

“You’re still with Emma?” David sounds surprised. Regina glances at her watch and it’s far later than she thought. Their dinner began at eight but it’s now nearly eleven. When did they enjoy each other’s company so much? 

“We’re having a drink.”

“Is she behaving oddly towards you?”

“Oddly?” Regina repeats. Emma’s cleaning up the dishes, humming to herself. It’s probably some terrible pop ‘classic’ from the 90s that Regina missed out on entirely, but it’s not odd behaviour. It’s a little more domestic than Emma usually is but that’s far from concerning, surely. “No, not really. She appears to be in good health and high spirits.”

“How high?”

“She’s hardly intoxicated if that’s what you’re asking.”

David covers the phone on his end and has a brief exchange with someone in the room with him.

“Regina, do you remember the mistletoe Emma was hanging at Granny’s on Sunday?”

She perfectly remembers the vulgar Christmas decorations everyone seemed so thrilled with. The mistletoe was the least tacky part of the display. 

“It fell from the ceiling and I picked it up. I handed it to Emma so she could hang it back up.”

“Tell her--“ Snow’s voice carries in the background, muffled.

David sighs. “We think the mistletoe was enchanted.”

“Enchanted?” Regina raises her eyebrows. Emma refills her cider and keeps clearing up until all the dishes are in the dishwasher and she’s settled on the sofa next to Regina. They’re so close that their thighs are touching, and Emma sets her cider down before leaning her head on Regina’s shoulder.

Immediately stiffening at the contact, Regina runs all the types of enchantment she can think of through her head. It wouldn’t be that. 

It couldn’t be. 

“Apparently Ruby wished the mistletoe made the holiday exciting while Nova walked by with the fairy dust from the mine and all the mistletoe in the box carries an incredibly potent love spell. Ruby’s been passing it out to the other shopkeepers all week and now all of main street is in love with her. She’s trying to keep them from declaring themselves all her own personal harem in the diner right now. We thought the only people infected were those with the mistletoe up in their shops but then Henry remembered you handing that sprig to Emma--“

“That’s impossible.” 

Emma’s hand reaches across Regina’s thigh and winds into her own, warm and comfortable as if they hold hands frequently. Like lovers.

“Ask her--“ Snow insists in the background. 

“Ask her if she loves you.”

“I will do no such thing.”

Emma sits up then and kisses Regina’s cheek playfully. “Tell my parents to stop monopolising you.”

The point where Emma’s lips touched her skin burns as if Emma were a hundred degrees warmer than Regina. Dropping the phone into her lap, Regina struggles to retrieve it and Emma hands it over with another kiss, this time on her lips. It’s so familiar and almost lazy on Emma’s part that Regina can’t even react. 

No one, not even Daniel, ever kissed her like that. Daniel was always hurried, careful not to be caught, but Emma just kissed her as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

“Emma.”

“Hmm?” Emma runs her fingers over Regina’s, slowly memorising all the skin between her fngers. 

“Do you--“ Regina can’t believe she’s actually asking this. “Do you love me?”

“Of course.” Emma takes the phone from Regina’s suddenly numb fingers. “Mom, Dad, I love you both, but goodnight.” She shuts the phone and tosses it aside. “Are you asking if I love you or if I’m in love with you? Because I’d want to say both, but I feel like you think that’s a cop out answer.” 

“What?”

Emma finds her confusion adorable. “You don’t think that’s a lazy answer? I’ve been trying to decide and I guess it’s like love and you, Regina, you, are just one thing in my head. Kind of like chocolate and amazing are always pretty much the same thing, you know?” 

Emma kisses her hand and sits up. “Why do you ask?”

“How long have you loved me?”

Beaming at her, Emma takes her hands. “Do you mean ‘when did I know I loved you?’ or ‘when do I think I fell in love with you?’, because they’re totally different.” 

Regina gulps down the rest of her cider, hoping the alcohol can somehow dull her shock. “Both.”

“Aren’t you demanding?” Emma reaches for her face and strokes it. “You’re so tense tonight. Long day?”

“In a manner.” 

“I suppose I didn’t help by running off trying to cook.”

“It wasn’t a problem.”

“I’m trying to avoid the question, aren’t I? That’s why you’re making that face.” Emma sighs. “I knew on Sunday. We were in the diner, you were complaining about how much electricity the reindeer Granny put on the diner roof were probably using and how tacky they were. I looked at you then and I just knew. I watched you hug Henry and I knew, just like that.” 

“Emma--“

“But when did I fall in love with you?” Emma ponders that and even though Regina’s heartbeat rushes through her ears, she’s curious. She should stop her from talking, but she doesn’t. “When you wanted to save Storybrooke from the trigger, I think. You were still kind of woozy from being electrocuted, but you were so determined. When you told me you’d die, well, as morbid as it sounds, I realised what an idiot I was because I loved you and I’d never get to tell you. I should have been thinking about Henry, or how to save you, but all I remember thinking was how I’d missed the chance to ever tell you.”

She stares at Emma, wordlessly lost in her green eyes. 

“That’s a stupid answer, isn’t it?” Emma says, grinning and staring down. “It’s not romantic at all.”

Emma’s phone rings on the chair where Emma threw it and Regina flies from the sofa to answer it. 

“She told you she loves you, didn’t she?” Snow demands on the other end.

Emma’s watching her so adoringly that part of Regina just wants to say no and spend the rest of the evening talking about how much Emma loves her. She’s so lonely without Henry in the house and even though it’s only been a handful of days, Emma’s little kindnesses are the nicest things anyone has done for her in a very long time. 

Emma leaves the sofa and wraps her arms around Regina’s waist. She turns them slowly, dancing to some tune only she can hear. Her hair is so close that Regina can smell her shampoo, something more herbal than flowery. 

“Yes, but she’s claiming it was months ago.”

Snow and David confer, muttering in the background. 

“Months ago?”

“Before Neverland, when Emma and I stopped the trigger.” 

Emma starts kissing her way up Regina’s neck and her hands slide down the small of Regina’s back. No one’s touched her, no one makes any contact with her other than Henry and it only takes seconds of being touched for all of her to vibrate with the need for more. 

“That can’t be possible,” Snow whispers. 

“What does that mean?” David asks someone else there. 

“Months?” that voice belongs to the meddling Blue Fairy. “If Emma claims she’s loved Regina for months, then the love spell on the mistletoe didn’t create love in Emma’s heart, it set it free from Emma’s inhibitions, which is an entirely different problem. I can remove a false love spell, but I can’t take love that already exists.”

Emma’s tongue licks just beneath Regina’s ear and the shiver that runs down Regina’s back fills her with a different kind of hunger.

“Tell them we’re busy.” Emma drags up Regina’s sweater, exposing the flimsy silk camisole underneath. 

She could teleport away. Plead a headache, vanish into the ether, shovel out her car and go, but Emma’s arms are securely around her. Emma’s lips work their way towards her mouth and Regina can’t leave.

“She can’t love her--“

“Fairy dust can’t magnify a crush into love or force someone to permanently love someone. The charms on the shopkeepers are just that, charms. They’ll fade by morning or if Ruby gives them all some strong coffee with a sprinkle of cloves. If Emma had feelings for Regina, even latent ones, I cannot undo it.”

“I drank that potion to forget my love for Charming,” Snow says. 

“And forgot I existed, then became a vengeful psychopath.” David reminds her. “If Emma forgets Regina exists, how will we explain her relationship with Henry? Or the way her selective amnesia happened to only remove the Mayor of the town where she works from her memories?”

“It’s dark magic,” the Blue Fairy says. “I can’t authorise that as a cure for anything. If Emma’s love is truly a charm gone awry, if you feed her something cleansing, like sage or cloves, she’ll be cured. If she still admits to loving you, I’m afraid it’s not something Nova, Ruby or the mistletoe caused.” 

Regina hangs up and throws the cell back to the sofa. Her arms are rigid at her sides, even though she longs to hold Emma close and return her affection. Perhaps the mistletoe is affecting her too because she doesn’t want to let go. 

“No more phone,” Emma says, dropping a pillow on top of the phone and pulling Regina away from it. They’re still swaying to music that isn’t playing and it’s awkward but at the same time it’s gentle. 

“Emma?” 

Emma continues tugging the silk of her camisole free of Regina’s trousers. “Don’t worry.”

“Worry?”

“I know love’s hard for you. I know this is really hard for you and as beautiful as you are-“ Emma stops, holding Regina’s chin with one hand, “I’d never want to rush into something you weren’t ready for.”

“I’m not ready for?”

“You don’t have to love me. If this-“ Emma gestures at the space between them. “If you and are aren’t, that’s cool.”

“It is?”

Emma’s eyes shine wet in the candlelight. “Yeah.” 

Love is weakness: the voice that sounds like Regina’s mother reminds her. Love is pain and sacrifice, ache and longing. Regina needs none of it, wants nothing--

Yet, as the storm rages outside, Regina’s ready to throw all of that away. Love is the gentleness with which Emma pulled out her chair, the care she took in dinner and the way Emma looks at her as if she’s so much more than her titles and her wicked past.

"Come here," she whispers, leading Emma to the kitchen. 

It's almost too much to hope that Emma has something like cloves. She does seem to have only just learned to cook, but perhaps Regina will be lucky (or unlucky, as she increasingly fears). Emma removes her own sweater, revealing a tight black tank top and those arms and shoulders of hers. Regina has to remind herself that she hasn't been cursed because it would be so easy to give in. She could just kiss her now, let Emma kiss her back, claim to be cursed, to be possessed, charmed, anything that would let this continue. 

Finding cloves in a little glass bottle near the back of the disorderly spice rack, Regina opens it as Emma nibbles the back of her neck. 

"We should talk," Emma says. 

Regina drops most of the cloves on the countertop and they bounce, cascading to the floor, leaving their scent in the air. She's kept hold of one and she pinches it between her fingers like a lifeline. 

"Talk?"

"I want you," Emma begins and Regina's self-control withers like an apple blossom in a thunderstorm. "But if you don't, that's okay."

"Emma."

"Hey, I love you. That means I'll wait until you'll ready or we just be friends because I won't hurt you."

Once she could stop herself from crying, could even make the tears come on demand, but here in Snow White's kitchen, it's hopeless. 

"I know this is hard for you," Emma whispers, tucking Regina's hair back. "And that's okay. I don't want to hurt you. We can forget I said anything and drink until it's easy to forget the whole thing."

"I don't want to forget," Regina struggles to reply. Her whole body aches for Emma, not just the promise of a warm human body against hers, but for this woman. 

She can't. She can't take advantage. That, she would never forgive herself for. 

Holding up the clove in her palm, Regina forces herself to speak. "I need you to eat this."

Emma winks at her. "Then give it to me." 

She lifts the clove and brings it to Regina's lips. Regina can't help opening her mouth, just enough to hold the clove between her lips so Emma can kiss it from her. It's the only way to make it work, at least, that's what she tells herself. Closing her eyes, Regina resigns herself to losing this too, just as she's lost everyone she's ever loved. 

For a last kiss, this one holds too much promise of tomorrow. She'll cry herself asleep back in her tomb of a mansion, remembering the way Emma's tongue caressed her own and how it never will again. 

Emma chews the clove obediently, making a face as the pungent spice fills her mouth. She swallows it quickly, grimacing like a cat who's caught something she didn't want. There's no shimmer, no hissing of magic fading away. There's nothing. Regina grabs more of the spilled cloves from the counter, making sure she had the right thing. She did, of course, she did, but nothing's happened. 

"I think I should get to kiss you again." Emma leans close. "You made me eat that."

Regina nods because she desperately wants to kiss her, even though she shouldn't. She absolutely should not. Emma's kiss nearly numbs her mouth and everything tastes of cloves, but it's Emma and she could taste of anything and still be incredible. Emma presses her back against the counter, her hands on Regina's waist and she could give in. She could have this beautiful woman, freely, because she's obviously not enchanted or the Blue Fairy is as much of an idiot as Regina's always suspected. It wouldn't be her fault. Of course they'd blame her, she's still the Evil Queen, but Emma might not and Emma--

"I need to call your parents back." Regina barely gets the words out around Emma's lips.

"Why?" Emma pulls Regina's sweater over her head, kissing the shoulder she's just exposed. "You did the thing they told you to do, didn't you?"

Of course Emma's going to argue that they continue. Emma has more sway over Regina than any devil on her shoulder, but she has to be honest. She has to do this right. She destroyed Graham because of her own jealous lust and she can't do that to Emma, not her. She can't.

"The thing didn't work."

"My tongue's half-numb. Wasn't that what they wanted?" 

Regina has to laugh at that. “Not exactly.”

“Is this something about me and you? My parents don’t like it, do they?”

Holding Emma’s phone n her hands, Regina pauses with her finger above the entry for ‘Dad’. “They don’t trust me.” 

That much is entirely true but it leaves out the love spell. Perhaps it’s easier just to leave that out for the moment. Emma will never believe her or perhaps she will and then this wonderful, confusing moment will end. 

“Are you going to hurt me?”

Staring at Emma, Regina could almost convince herself that she’s the one under a spell. “I hope not.”

“My heart’s super sticky,” Emma says, reaching for Regina’s hands and bringing them to her chest with the phone. “So that’s not going to be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t take your heart.”

“You wanted to.”

Regina has wanted to crush Emma’s heart in her hands so many times that the memory stings. It would have broken her curse immediately and she would have lost Henry completely, yet there were moments when it would have been worth it. At least, so she thought. Now she’s having trouble not being swept up by Emma's rebellious heart. Love is magic, isn't it? 

Kissing her again is wrong, so very wrong, but Emma's willing and dammit, she tried. Regina did exactly what the Blue Fairy asked. It's not her fault it doesn't work. She kisses Emma so hard it's almost bruising and Emma shoves her back against the counter. Perhaps some piece of her still wants revenge and taking Emma is part of that. Maybe she just has no tolerance to being loved. Loving someone is hard enough, being loved is outside of her understanding. Only Henry loves her and sometimes she doubts that because he's tried so hard to push her away. 

Except Emma loves her and if it's really all a lie she doesn't care. At least, she won't for the moment. 

"Maybe I should take yours instead," Emma says. Lingering over Regina's heart, Emma's hand tests her resolve. Her other hand reaches up beneath the silk to crush her breast.

"I'd let you take it."

The saviour nips her lip. "Yeah?"

Emma's thigh insinuates between Regina's legs and there's nowhere for her to go between Emma and the cabinet behind her. She hates being trapped, but this she could surrender to.

It's not her fault. She's meant to be defeated. The villain always loses in the end. 

Tugging off Emma's tank top, Regina runs her hands across Emma's incredibly soft skin. "I wish you would." 

Emma's magic sparks against her skin, sending five little fingertip shockwaves through Regina's chest. Emma whispers again how much she loves her and Regina's heart's already gone. She has no defences, no real strength to fight off this kind of attack. She's wet, aching and ready for Emma to take her on the countertop but Emma drags her back to the couch, kissing her as she guides her down. 

"Making out on the couch is the best end to a first date." 

Regina laughs. "I've never been on a date."

Emma removes her bra, soft pink cotton, and drops it onto the floor. Her breasts, small and perfect, beg to be touched and it doesn't matter that this is all new, Emma would be intoxicating enough without mulled cider warming her stomach. 

"Now you have," Emma says, lifting Regina's hands to her breasts in invitation. 

Running her fingers across the roundness of Emma's breasts, Regina slips her hands down to her ribs, then down her stomach towards her trousers. Emma lies back, letting her run her hands all the way down to her knees. The little hitch of Emma's breath sends a shiver down Regina's spine and she wants her own clothing off and Emma's hands on her, inside of her, more than she's wanted anything. 

It's not her magic. She didn't do this. It's not her fault. 

"I love you," Emma whispers, kissing her way up Regina's bare stomach as she removes the silk camisole. Regina's bra, deep purple and lacy, falls away into Emma's hands before joining the rest of their clothing on the floor. 

Her life has been built on lies. What's one more? If this lie hurts her most of all, then she deserves it. There's so much she should pay for. 

Emma licks, then sucks one of her nipples and heat blooms from her touch. Regina starts to push forward, but Emma guides her back. 

"Let me. I want to see you." 

Emma undoes the twin buttons on the waistband of Regina's trousers, then slides them down. Regina lifts her hips to help, trying to bite back her moan when Emma's hand strokes across her panties. She's never had to wait, never doubted. Graham came when she wanted him, did as she desired, but now she's clay in Emma's hands and her control, fragile and terrible, is shattered. Emma parts her legs, hands slipping up Regina's inner thighs. Her tongue follows down from the knee and Regina squirms beneath her. 

"Look at me," Emma says. It's half a plea, half a command and Regina's lost her eyes again when Emma's hand dips beneath the damp fabric of her panties. Her fingers roll across, then creep inside, spreading wetness across her swollen labia. She wants, needs, craves Emma's fingers back inside but the pressure on her clit makes her gasp. 

"Hey," Emma whispers. "Keep looking at me."


End file.
